Arizona Robbins:  The college experience
by fcallit
Summary: Follow Arizona throughout her freshman year as she pens down her most intimate thoughts


**Monday, August 29th**

I think I'm in love. Scratch that (I would actually scratch that but this journal is shiny and new and I'd like it to remain that way for the first page at least). I _am_ in love.

I woke up this morning just knowing today would be special. Dad had already loaded up the car with all of my things, while mom had laid out a whole assortment of doughnuts on the breakfast table. I'm talking blueberry crème, chocolate glazed, apple crumb, powdered cake, jelly filled, vanilla crème, sugar raised,…the whole shebang.

Damn it, doughnut craving.

Be right back.

* * *

><p><strong>Still Monday<strong>

Alright, craving filled. And that chocolate-y thumbprint in the corner of the page is merely there to commemorate the specialness of today, and not at all a result of my less-than-lady-like inhaling of certain foods. When I'm old and wrinkly and married to the woman of my dreams, I'll look back on the day that I met her and remember this smudge with fondness.

As I was saying, this morning was picture perfect. Timothy came bounding down the stairs and ruffled my hair. "Morning, sis."

Granted, I didn't like that part at the time. I may have elbowed him in the ribs and grumbled a "Shove off, Tim". But I can't be held accountable for that. People say I'm kind of grouchy in the morning, especially if I haven't had any caffeine yet. I have no idea what they're talking about. I just don't particularly enjoy it when my stupid brother ruins my hair after I spend half an hour in front of the mirror trying to tame that mess of curls into something remotely passable.

None of that matters anymore though. Being in love changes your whole perspective on things. See, it's like this. If my brother hadn't turned my passable curls into a bird's nest, I may not even have met the love of my life! Even if we had, by chance, crossed paths…how would I have known that she is in fact The One? You see, she saw me at my absolute worst. With frizzy hair sticking out every which way, sugar on my chin and coffee stain on my white blouse (we'll get to that later). Yet, she still asked me out on a date! That's right. I, Arizona Robbins, got a date with a hot HOT senior.

But we haven't reached that part yet. Torn between fixing my hair and having my fill of deliciously doughy goodness, I settled for fixing my brother with my best Arizona Steely Eyes Robbins glare. Being a boy and stupid and just a stupid stupid boy, he of course didn't even notice I was laser-eying him. Not having quite mastered the art of multi-tasking at my young age, I completely forgot about my éclair-or-bad-hair problem. Until dad said "It's time, Arizona. 1 minute to get your coat on," and walked out to get the car started.

The colonel is punctual. Extremely punctual. Like… "Why are you in bed at 19:58 when you started brushing your teeth at 19:56, Arizona? Every tooth in a man's head is more valuable than a diamond. _Three minutes_."

Luckily, mom knows me well. She had a paper bag and portable coffee mug all ready for me to go. "I love you sweetheart." We both fought back tears as we hugged. With a kiss for mom, and a wave and smile Timothy's way (he's an ass but he's also my big brother…and although I certainly won't miss the head-ruffling and "friendly" shoulder punches, I have gotten pretty used to seeing his stupid face every day for 18 years) I was off to college. Sticking my head out the car window, I looked back at my childhood home, watching it get smaller as we drove on. I didn't stop looking until a waving mom and Tim were tiny ant-like dots in the distance.

Awkwardly trying to maneuver the coffee and doughnuts, I struggled to unzip my bag to get a book to read. I hate travelling. Ironic considering my family's been on the move my whole life. Planes are the worst, but cars are equally scary deathtraps. Being on the ground at least gives me the illusion of safety though, so there's that. I was never that 15-year-old teenager counting down the days until I could finally get my driver's license. In fact, I did everything in my power to avoid it. Tim called me out on it though. "Look, we're all gonna die someday. So you can either be the lame geek who needs her big brother to drive her everywhere, or you can get your own car and have a private place to make out with chicks."

Let's just say 2 weeks later I dropped off Joanne with a sickeningly big grin on my face.

I noticed dad frowning at me as I turned a page in my organic chemistry textbook (yes, I am aware that I'm a big nerd). I immediately hide the paper bag behind my seat, as if that would suddenly make him forget that he saw me munching and drinking two seconds ago. Breakfast happens at the table between the hours of 07:00 and 07:30 after all. Surprisingly, he looked back to the road without mention of it. Aw, he's so gonna miss me when I'm gone. He won't ever outright say it, but I can tell.

He most likely regretted letting it slide about five minutes later when I went to grab a pen, and too engrossed in my atoms and alkynes, I failed to remember the coffee balancing between my thighs. Uhm, oops. Enter coffee stains on shirt (and car). Also enter infamous Colonel Robbins stern face and off-telling. And yes, embarrassingly enough, _also_ enter Arizona Robbins waterworks.

I blubberingly offered to pay for the steam cleaning. Dad just shook his head and I swear I saw his eyes soften before he grumbled "It's alright, Arizona. Accidents happen."

You see, this day did not start out well for me. Lucky for me, this was about the time things started turning around. After we got all of my stuff inside my dorm room, and I assured my dad that I would unpack all of it today (which I did…mostly. It's not like I need my winter clothes already. It's 82° out! Alright, I'll probably need socks…but there's something sticky in my sock drawer and I'm too tired from travelling to clean it up. So socks are staying firmly put in my luggage for now. I unpacked all the important stuff anyway. Cindy Crawford beckons from the far right wall and my books and cds are neatly lined up on my shelf), he hugged me gruffly. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he just looked at me for a moment while I squirmed uncomfortably focusing on a point over his shoulder. "Alright Arizona, be good. And remember, if you get in any trouble, put your weight behind it and hit hard so you –"

"- only have to hit once," we finished together. I smiled. "I'll miss you, dad."

He squeezed my shoulder, got in the car, and suddenly I was all alone. In a new city. I'm used to starting over, and making friends. But it just hit me that for the first time ever I won't have my family to fall back on.

I looked down and sighed, noticing the big stain on my brand new shirt. It probably won't even come out in the wash. As I quickly walked to the nearest restroom, I tried to use my bag to hide it as inconspicuously as possible. Considering I'm about as stealthy as an elephant in a china shop, I doubt I was very successful.

I barely suppressed a gasp when I did finally make it to a mirror. Furiously fluffing my hair and wiping at the smudges near my lips (is this why my dad was staring at me? He couldn't find a tactful way to mention it so he just let me walk around like that? And here I was thinking he was taking a last look at his only daughter because he was going to miss her for the long months she'd be gone. Humph). I took off my shirt and held it under the running water, cursing the men in my family as I scrubbed the white material. It was useless though so I turned my attention back to my face. My red, sweaty face…blotchy from crying and lugging all of my belongings around. I threw some water on it and ran my hand through my hair again. "Useless," I muttered.

My hands froze when I suddenly heard the sound of flushing and a door opening behind me. Oops. I didn't even think to check if anybody was in there. Why didn't they make a peep the entire time I've been here? Do they have some kind of pee-silencing superpower? Were they trying for number two, but I came in and they got shy so now they're cramping and in pain from holding it in? Ew, ew, eeee—_Not EW!_

I finally got a look at the mystery woman in the mirror. Wow. Our eyes met and I turned around. "Hi," I greeted her. When I retell this story to our friends and family at our wedding rehearsal dinner, I will of course tell re-enact the totally confident and breezy way I introduced myself. In actuality, my 'hi' came out kind of uh well, high. And squeaky. And just a touch breathy because my lungs chose that moment to exhale the breath I'd been holding in since I heard the toilet flush.

"Hey," came the completely natural response. "Do you mind uh-" she motioned her head towards the sink.

I blinked. Do I mind what? Do I mind you hopping on that counter and allowing me to nestle between your legs while I kiss you senseless? Nope, don't mind if I do! My brain cells reeled in my hormones because I had the feeling that's not what she meant. I quickly realize that my shirt was still lying in the only sink. Hold on. I DON'T HAVE A SHIRT ON. Moving faster than I ever have before, I make a grab for it, holding it to my chest. "Uhh, sorry about that," I apologize, completely mortified.

Now, it's not like I was stark naked, or even just in my bra. I was wearing a white tank top under the shirt so really, I shouldn't be freaking out so much. But I was. Because it was a flimsy top and I had been ogling this goddess in front of me. Let's just say I had a reaction…One I couldn't even blame on the cold because like I said, it's 82 fricking °. Hence the shirt grabbing. The eyes closing. The silent praying. She didn't notice. She didn't notice. She didn't notice.

While I was freaking out, the mystery girl had washed her hands, and was drying them off. She tossed the paper towel in the bin, and turned towards me. I clutched my shirt harder. I couldn't even put it back on because it was wet and white and..wet. Stupid coffee. Stupid car. Stupid Tim. This was ALL HIS FAULT.

"Are you a freshman?"

What? She's talking? To me? Words. Use words, Arizona. I stopped imaging what it would be like to take a bat to Tim's head long enough to open my mouth. "Yeah."

Eloquent, aren't I? Here she was giving me the perfect opportunity to engage her in conversation, get to know her, get a number even! And I'm blowing it. What happened to Arizona Robbins, Findlay High's resident heartthrob? Who is this tongue-tied ditz? Sigh. Stupid adjustment period. This happens every time we move. It takes me a while to acclimate. And it certainly doesn't help when gorgeous girls ambush me in restrooms. I need prep time!

"I figured. You have that wild freshman look in your eyes," she laughed softly, brown eyes twinkling. I looked down and blushed. Great, I'm sporting crazy eyes.

She ruffled in her purse and handed me a flyer. I carefully extended one arm, keeping the shirt clutched to my chest with the other. Raising an eyebrow questioningly, I glanced over the paper.

The girl walked towards the door. "Campus pride meeting. You should stop by, it's a great place to meet new friends." Then she paused, gave me the once-over, her eyes lingering over my middle section. Her eyes caught mine again. "I'm sure you'll feel right at home," she winked. Then she walked out.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. She KNEW. She SAW. SHE NOTICED. I was mortified, praying for a sink hole to swallow me whole. Before I could even move, she popped her head back in. "By the way, baking soda should clear that stain right up. Oh and when you swing by, ask for Julie. Julie Matthews." Then she smiled really big and extended her hand.

"Arizona Robbins." I counted. One, two, three, four, five. Five beats! Five, before she released my hand. That totally means something, right? Right. "I look forward to seeing you again, Arizona."

I love coffee! I love my brother! And I LOVE Julie. Sigh. She's perfect. Of course I facebooked her the minute I got back to my dorm. I won't disclose how long I spent drooli - uh looking at her pictures. There's one in particular that I love of her at the beach. I am in need of a new screensaver…Nah, too stalkerish. I'll wait until we're official.

Technically, we don't actually have a date. That was a bit premature of me. I got caught up in the excitement. But she likes me. That's for sure, right? I mean, there was the smiling, the hand-holding, the flirting. She definitely likes me.

Unless, she's just a touchy-feely, naturally flirty type of girl. And she is vice-president of the LBGT group on campus so that invite could have been purely in her capacity as VP, taking pity on the crazy-eyed, pervy freshman. She did say it's a great place to meet FRIENDS. What if that's all she wants to be? What if I read too much into it? What if I spend the rest of my life pining after her when all she wants is to be friends? Crap. Breathe. I need someone to talk to. But I don't have any friends yet. Not even my roommate is around.

Huh, that's weird. I was sure her email said she was coming today. But it's dark out and my roommate hasn't arrived yet. How come I didn't notice that before. Ooh right, beach pictures.

(five minutes later)

What? I had to check my email! It's not my fault my browser happened to be open on that particular page.

I hear something.

* * *

><p><strong>Still Monday, but really late. Technically Tuesday I suppose<strong>

Yeah, my missing roommate showed up. She had car trouble. Her name's Teddy Altman and she seems pretty cool. She was wiped though so we didn't talk much. She wanted to take a shower and she's out cold now.

Too bad, I really needed someone to freak out to. First meeting was probably too early to introduce her to my insane side though. I need to ease her in with sane, perky Arizona to get her settled first. I'll tell her about Julie at breakfast. Best not keep the crazy from her for too long. It's only fair she knows as soon as possible who it is she's rooming with.

* * *

><p><strong>No longer technically-Tuesday but actually-Tuesday Tuesday, August 30<strong>**th**

Teddy jogs. She gets up at the crack of dawn, puts on sweats and JOGS. Voluntarily. It makes her feel good. You know what makes ME feel good? Sleep. Also? Kissing. No need to get all sweaty…(uh well, maybe _a little_ sweaty. But I've never gotten _sweaty sweaty_ if you know what I mean).

At least I no longer have to worry about my roommate declaring me mentally ill. Clearly she's got a screw loose herself.

I'm thinking unstable mental health is a requirement to get a room in this building. I met my Resident Advisor, Miranda Bailey. She's…interesting.

"I've got five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one. Don't bother sucking up, you can not switch rooms; you can not throw unauthorized parties; there will be no underage drinking; and no, I will not look over your papers.

"Rule number two. You have keys. Use them, don't lose them. Yes, I DO have a copy, but I DO NOT enjoy being disturbed at all hours of the night. I repeat, do NOT lose your keys.

"Rule number three. If I am sleeping, do NOT wake me up. Sleep at a friend's, wait on your roommate, sleep on the damn floor for all I care. But DO NOT wake me.

"Rule number four. If you do wake me, you better be sick or dying and in desperate need of medication that is inside your room otherwise I assure you, you will be dying at the hand of ME."

Someone was foolish enough to raise their hand and ask for the fifth rule.

"Rule number five. DO NOT under ANY CIRCUMSTANCE invite BOYS over to your room."

Collective groans filled the room. Heh, I don't know about numbers 1 – 4, but number 5 definitely won't be a problem for me.

"Whatever, my boyfriend's got an off campus apartment anyway," an Asian girl told the dirty-blonde haired girl who'd asked.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"My boyfriend lives in a trailer. In the woods. There are bears."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. But he has great hair. And he smells nice. We're getting a dog."

And with that the two entered the room across from mine. Insane asylum this dorm is. Seriously.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday afternoon<strong>

Teddy caught breakfast with a friend after her jog. Apparently he jogs too. They do it together. Like it's some kind of social activity or something. Insane. You know what friends do together? Drinks and dancing! Bowling! Good lord, some people…

Anyway, I wasn't able to befriend and unload on Teddy during breakfast because she didn't come back. We had lunch together though, and I caught her up on Bailey's five rules. Apparently she'd already heard all about them from her jogging partner Owen. He was an RA last semester and apparently they all called Bailey The Nazi. She's a legend amongst RA's all over the country.

I sensed some unrequited love and unhealthy pining on her part. But before I was able to address it or my Julie problem, lunch was over and we had to get to orientation. Along the way, we had a _fascinating _discussion about the type of shoe polish Owen uses.

Oh god. What if I am Teddy The Prequel? She probably met this Owen guy and thought 'hey, this guy seems nice'. Then he asked her to come hang out and she mistook it for a date and fell in love while all he wanted was to be friends and she has been pining after him for years and years and OH MY GOD I AM TEDDY THE PREQUEL.

No no no no no. Julie _is_ interested. She is. And if she's not, I'm alright with being just friends. Totally. Cool as a cucumber.

I wonder if Julie jogs.

* * *

><p><strong>Later, still Tuesday<strong>

Well, that was boring. I actually have no idea what was said. I was writing in here for the most time and doodling Arizona Matthews-Robbins and other variations during the rest of it. Meh, I'll just copy Teddy's notes later. Do people even take notes at orientation?

I'm not being a very good nerd today, what with the not paying attention and questioning note-taking. Being in love is very distracting, and exhausting. I want to stay up and wait for Teddy though. The pride meeting is tomorrow and I do really have to discuss this with someone. I can't go to this thing with my thoughts and feelings an unprocessed mess.

I feel like Teddy and I could be good friends. Even if she is a lovesick puppy with an unhealthy obsession for shoe polish.

Ah, here she comes.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday night<strong>

Huh. Apparently Cristina Yang's (one of the girls from across the hall) off-campus boyfriend is the one and only Owen Hunt – the object of Teddy's affections. Seriously (ugh, that's catching on). I heard them arguing in the hall. Then Cristina shouted that Teddy could have him. Huh. Isn't this Owen dude supposed to have a say in any of this. Whatever. And they say lesbians are dramatic.

Needless to say, it wasn't a good night to bring up my Julie problem. I was slightly shocked when Teddy pulled out a flask from a hollow book. I thought that was a movie thing! I had no idea people actually used that trick. We had a good time though, and I made sure to finish off the rest of my doughnuts so I'd have something in my stomach to soak up the alcohol. I may have broken Bailey's first rule on my first day here, but I'm not completely irresponsible.

I'm surprisingly clear-headed with a light buzz. The Southern Comfort had the desired comforting affect and I'm feeling pleasantly fuzzy. Tomorrow, I'm just gonna go over there and see what happens. If she asks me out: yay, awesome! If she doesn't and just wants to be friends, I'll plant one on her to show her what she's missing and strut out of there.

Arizona Robbins is fully acclimated and ready to take college by storm. Hell yeah.

* * *

><p><strong>A little later, still Tuesday night<strong>

Seriously, I wonder if she jogs? Cuz…that could be a dealbreaker.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: No worries, Arizona is meeting Callie in the next chapter <strong>

**Thought? Comments? Advice? Questions? Reviews are very much appreciated. **


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